


Jon & Sansa

by InnerWorkings94Imagines



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, william shakespeare - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-09-13
Packaged: 2019-06-08 14:19:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15245238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerWorkings94Imagines/pseuds/InnerWorkings94Imagines
Summary: Loosely Based on William Shakespeare’s Antony & Cleopatra. 5 Part Series





	1. Act 1

Jon was at the desk in the Queen’s solar, the maester still standing there waiting for a command.  He was looking at him, weary of what to do next. Jon’s features etched sadness on them, his eyes moving across the words.  His betrothed from Dorne was dead. He didn’t love her, like he was supposed to, but the two had spent many summers together playing in the Red Keep walls.  Jon thought back to his last conversation with the Dornish Princess. She was furious, throwing things at him, the moment he spoke how he was to return North.  Back to Winterfell, the place that fostered him, raised him. The family he always wished he was apart of. Away from her. 

 

_ ‘You just want to be with that Northern whore!’  _   Jon could still hear her voice know.  See her tears. It was the hardest thing he had to do, to her, was to leave her like that. Princess Arianne Martell was a frightening woman, but one he cared for deeply.  

 

“Jon, is there something wrong?”  Arya spoke first. His mind coming back to the present.  His eyes looked at her briefly before turning to the Queen of the North.

“My betrothed is dead.”  Sansa looked at him sadly.  She understood how Jon felt about the Dornish princess.

 

“How?”  She whispered.  

“Poisoned.  They say it was by my Uncle Viserys.” 

 

“They?”  Arya asked.

“The writer claims to be Aegon, my long lost brother.” 

 

“The one who died at sea?”  Jon turned towards Bran. Bran nodded without him saying a word before his eyes grew white.  Sansa didn’t like watching her brother go into these transcents. Her eyes catching Jon who gave her an apologetic look.  Just as soon as Bran was gone, he was back. 

 

“He’s telling the truth.  His ship was wrecked but he was saved by a passing fisherman’s boat.  Because of his age, he stayed with them, until Sir Jon Cunnington had found him.   It wasn’t until your father’s passing Cunnington finally found him.” 

 

Sansa walked over, taking the letter.  Her eyes scanning the words. 

 

“It says he is working with the Baratheon boy.”  

 

“Sansa, that was unlady like.”  Arya teased. 

“I grow tired of these games.  If another King has come into the realm I need to know.”  She put it back on the table, before walking over to the window.  She looked out at the snow falling. Jon could feel her anger. 

 

“He asked me to join my forces, to fight for the Kingdom against my uncle.” 

 

“Why? You’ve never wanted the Southern Kingdom or to be part of its ruling.”  Arya spoke up. 

 

“No.  I’ve always wanted to be here.”  Jon smiled, looking at her, before looking at Sansa’s back.  “With my true family.” Sansa turned to see him, before turning back.  Her tears coming. She knew what he must do and she didn’t like it. 

 

“I will be in the Godswoods.”  She whispered before running off, Her direwolf Lady and Jon’s Direwolf Ghost following her.  Her ever present guards. 

 

“Don’t know why she goes there.  She doesn’t pray anymore.” Arya quipped up.  Jon reached out, looking at the letter. 

“She didn’t hate Arianne Martell.  In fact she rather enjoyed her company when she went to Dorne in her childhood.”  Bran put in. “Her death sadness her.” 

 

“I thought nothing sadnes the Queen anymore?”  Ayra looked down at the knife, wondering is she still cries about her Brother and Mother’s demise.    

 

“Her Majesty has always had a gentle heart underneath the ice.”  Jon put out. He stood up, following her into the Godswoods 

 

~❆❆❆~                  

 

Sansa sat on the root of the great Gods Tree next to the small pond.  Her hand in Lady’s fur. Her eyes dry, but Jon knew when she was holding back tears.  

 

“Normally the betrothed is the one who should be shedding tears.”  Jon motioned for Ghost, who came to stand beside him. 

 

“She didn’t deserve that.  No matter how much we have grown to dislike each other, Princess Arianne was my first and only friend I’ve ever really known in the south.”  Sansa stood, walking over to the pool of water. Silence echoed through the falling snow. 

 

“You know I have to go.”  Jon took a few steps closer, breaking the silence, breaking the distance. 

 

“I know… I know I have to stay.  If I risk Norther lives for a southern battle, my people will grow to hate me.  That I can’t do.” 

 

“Your a great Queen, Sansa.  You were always meant to be one.”  

 

“Robb was meant to be King.  Rickon was meant to live, Bran was meant to be so much more than a seer of misfortune, but I was never meant to be where I am.  If I wasn’t than maybe…” Jon placed a hand on her cheek. His eyes connected to hers. 

 

“If Robb had lived, if Rickon was here, and if Bran had never fallen, you and I would have been wed long ago.”  Jon whispered. Sansa placed a hand on Jon’s cheek. His rough beard against her cold hand, felt like home to her.  

 

“I can’t say it first.”  She whispered. “A queen isn’t supposed to say it first-”  

 

“I love you Sansa Stark.” He quickly answers her.  “My queen of love and Beauty.” 

 

“I love you Jon Targaryen.”  He steals a kiss before the eyes of the Old Gods.  

 

~❆❆❆~   

 

Jon was readying his saddle, making sure his provisions where enough until he catch up to his troops moving south.  Bran had some with him, he sat there petting the horse. 

 

“Jon, I saw something else in my visions.”  He turned to look at his foster brother. 

 

“What else?”  

 

“If you go up against Aegon, you will not come back.”  

 

“I hope that won’t come true.”  Jon kneeled to become eyelevel. 

 

“Jon, every possible outcome ends in your death if you go up against Aegon.”  Jon nodded, taking his hand. 

 

“I trust you Bran.  Guide the Queen well.”  

 

“I will.  Remember what I said.”  

 

“I will.”  Jon stood up, jumping on his horse.  Riding out of the stables, he looked back to wave goodbye to Sansa.  She smiled meekly, both wishing for the same thing. For him not to go.  Jon turned back around, his wish unanswered, he rode through the gates of Winterfell and off to war.


	2. Act II

Jon stood over the water basin, washing his hands of blood.  He could feel his hair still not as clean as he wished it to be.  

 

“Jon have you been listening?”  Jon grabbed a cloth, quickly whipping his hands dry once more.  

 

“Mostly.”  He smirked at his brother.  Aegon shook his head, beckoning him to the table.  

 

“We were speaking on the matter of your Uncle.  He is still walled up in the hideous castle of his.” 

 

“Hey, that is to be my castle, once his over.”  Aegon defended his future estate. 

“The Red Keep isn’t much to look at, but the views of the ocean are wondrous.”  Jon pointed out. 

 

“Women folly.”  Joffrey scoffed under his voice.  

 

“There wasn’t much Women folly on the field today.  Didn’t see you anywhere close to it.” Jon sat down in his chair, glaring at the boy.  

 

“My strategy won us the battle.” 

 

“My men, won us the battle.”  Jon grabbed his cup, taking a sip from it.  

 

“Don’t you mean the Queen in the North’s men?” 

 

“Her majesty, Queen Sansa didn’t grace me with any of her troops.  This was a southern’s war. A southern’s war it will remain.” 

 

“The wildings than?  Are they not of North lands?”

 

“The men that followed, became apart of my army.  They are looking for lands to settle down south. Easy to farm.  The Riverlands is all I asked for from my uncle, and from you. For the refugees of the great winter war we had fought.”  

 

“I consent of course.  People need a place.” Aegon agreed.  

 

“But their savages.”  Joffrey scuffed. 

 

“You are savage to them.”  Jon retorted back. Joffrey slammed his cup down, his eyes growing bright.  

 

“I think you are untrustworthy.  There's nothing that is binding you to this war, no agreement that is in place to earn my trust.  The Riverlands share a border with the kingdom of the rock. What makes me think that after this war is done, you wouldn’t push onto my lands?”

 

“Don’t you mean your Grandfather's?” Jon quipped.  

 

“Jon.”  Aegon spoke up.  “Joffrey, its a simple fix.  Jon recently lost his betrothed.  Your sister, Myrcella, is without a husband or a betrothed.”  Jon glared at his brother. 

 

“You speak to freely Aegon.” 

 

“Would a marriage match put your mind at ease?”  

 

“Aegon-”

 

“It would.”  Joffrey stood up after a few moments of silence.  “I will leave you to think about it. I expect an answer in the morning.”  Joffrey sauntered out of the tent, a winning smirk on his lips. 

 

Jon slammed his fist on the table.  His eyes glaring at his brother. 

 

“No.”  

 

“Jon, please!  Think about it.”  

 

“I will not be marrying his inbred sister.” 

 

“You don’t know that to be true!”

 

“Fine you marry her!”  Jon, knew he was being harsh to a girl who didn’t deserve it, but being sold off another time was not something he would agree to.  

 

“I can’t.  I’m already engaged to Margaery Tyrell.  Besides Joffrey isn’t convinced of your allegiance, not mine.  It wouldn’t mean anything to him.” 

 

“I can’t Aegon.  I can’t I already-” 

 

“If you want to protect those you saved during the great Winter war, you need the Boy’s approval.”  Jon’s thoughts went to the villagers he fought for. The children who would grow up not scared of the noise at night.  “If you want to protect the Queen in the North from his wrath, I suggest you take the deal.”    
  


“I’m not under Queen’s payroll.”  

 

“No but if rumors are true, your in her bed.”  Jon reached over taking a sip of wine. Her red hair flashing in his mind, her gentle smile looking down at him while they laid under the heart tree in the Godswoods.  

 

_ Peace. _

 

He thought.  That’s what she gave him.  That’s what he is giving up.  

 

“For your people Jon.”  He finished off his wine, nodding.  

 

“Fine.  I’ll agree to the match.  Only if my people are safe.”  Aegon smiled, clapping him on the back.       

 

* * *

 

 

Sansa sat under the heart tree, her fingers laced in Lady’s hair.  Her eyes dry as could be, yet her she felt her heart slowly turn to ice.  Fixing the cracks that formed from his betrayal. She held the note in her hand, a message from Cersei Lannister, informing her of her daughters marriage to Jon Targaryen.  

 

_ Jon Snow, my Jon. _

 

She thought, clutching the raven’s message.  

 

“Dark Wings, Dark words.”  She heard from behind her. Sansa looked up, her eyes meeting her sisters.  She can’t remember the last time she heard her sister approach. Not since she disappeared for a couple of years and came back from the Many face gods.  

 

“Jon has married the Baratheon Girl.”  

 

“Don’t you mean Lannister?”  Arya sat down, her own direwolf lurking in the woods behind them, probably fetching a deer or two.  

 

“That can’t be proven.”  

 

“Gendry looks like a mini version of his father, with his dark brown hair and brown eyes, opposed to his blue eyed mother.”  Arya pointed out. “He always said a wise man, said that that the Seed is strong in Baratheon boys.” Sansa gave a slight smile to her sister.  

 

“When are you going to make an honest man out of that Blacksmith?”  

 

“Here I thought you would make me wed a lordling.”  Sansa shook her head. 

 

“No.  I only threatened you with that, so you wouldn’t run off again.”  

 

“Wouldn’t that make me run off?”  Sansa clutched the letter to her chest.  

 

“I hear she’s the most beautiful thing to come out of the south.”  Arya shook her head. 

 

“You are prettier.  You’re a Queen, what is she?  A bastard who doesn’t know who her real father is?”  

 

“Arya-” 

 

“No.  You’re better than she is.  You’re smarter. Do you think little miss lion cub could do what you did.  You saved the north.” 

 

“Jon saved the North.”  

 

“But couldn’t have done it without you.  You saved us sister. Give yourself some credit.”  Sansa reached out taking her sisters hand. 

 

“You know you would be a great mother if you tried.”  

 

“I don’t want children.”  Arya shook her sister off.  She stood up, Sansa’s smile returned.  “You always and will be the better mother out of us two girls.”  Arya turned her back. “Little miss prim and proper.” She muttered, earning a snowball to the back.  Both girls laughed, throwing snow at one another. The note forgotten in the snow.

 

* * *

 

Jon had arrived to King’s Landing to meet his betrothed.  She was a delicate thing, young and madly in love with someone else.  He could tell just off their first meeting. She would do her duty, forced if she had to, but she would.  Jon knew that both were being forced into something they didn’t want.

 

He was sitting in his room, looking out at the city, wishing he saw trees insteads of buildings.  Smelling winter air instead of seawater. He was lost in thought, when his door was swung open. He stood up, seeing two of his men he left in the Riverlands.  

 

“Tormund? Edd?”  Jon took them in.  Each man, was covered in mud and blood.  Tormund was still bleeding from his arm, the droplets dripping on the floor.  “What happened?” 

 

“It was the stags!”  Tormund yelled. “The people fled back up north.  At least the villages we could save.” 

 

“They came out of nowhere Jon!  I’ve never seen such brutality, not since the Long night.  Women and children, they were just farming, living when they cut them down.”  

 

“Jon?”  All three men, turned to see the blonde haired girl standing shocked in the doorway.  “Is everything alright?” She was coming by for her usually daily visit. At least to try and get to know him.  He walked over to his bed, grabbing his sword and motioned for ghost. The direwolf came off of his sleeping bed, excited about what was happening now.  Jon walked over putting a gentle hand on Myrcella's cheek. 

 

“I hope you find happiness.”  She smiled, knowing what he meant.  

 

“Thank you.”  She whispered, quickly running off towards the one she really wanted.  

 

“Let’s go.”  Jon made his way to the stables.  

 

“Go where?  Our people are scattered.”  

 

“North!  That’s where they will go.”  Ghost howled, knowing he would be home soon.

 

* * *

 

It had been three months since Sansa had received news of Jon’s wedding.  Everyday she walked to the Godswoods in the morning, wishing to find him there, like she used.  Lady who was walking beside her, stopped in her tracks, before quickly taking off forward. Sansa quickly followed, to see Lady playing with Ghost.  The white direwolf whining in happiness, excited to see one of his own again. Summer was with them, even nymeria out from the woods to see her long lost brother.  Sansa quickly turned, heading towards the gates. She stopped, once she spotted him, hugging her sister. Bran was smiling, knowing this was always going to happen.  Sansa took him, quickly running to met him, embracing him. Her lips on his, while he held her close. 

 

“I thought-” 

 

“I know-”  he whispered, holding her closely.  Arya smiled, her eyes looking over at Gendry, who nodded at her.  

 

“He’s not married.”  She called out, to Sansa.  Sansa looked at her sister, before looking at Jon. 

 

“Married?”  Jon questioned.  

 

“I got news you had wed Myrcella Baratheon.” 

 

“No, it was a betrothal.  I had no intention of following through with it.”  Jon wiped away a tear from Sansa’s face. “I would never betray you like that.  Not again.” Sansa nodded, looking behind him to see Tormund and Edd. She quickly tried to regain her footing.  

 

“What happened?”  She asked, taking in their appearance.  “Gendry, get a Maester.” She called out to him, she noticed Tormund was still bleeding. 

 

“I’m fine.”  He said, shaking his head.  “Just a little blood. Most of it is not mine.”  

 

“What happened?”  She demanded. She looked behind them to see women and children in all different types of ways.  Somewhere hurt badly, somewhere fine, but mostly everyone was tired. 

 

“Baratheon.  They went against their word and attacked the refugees in the Riverlands.  Sansa say Jon’s eyes, both matching their intensity. 

 

“Let’s get them some food, before we do anything else.  She left Jon’s grasp, quickly moving Arya and her people around to help those who needed it.  Jon smiled, knowing he was finally back where he belonged. 


	3. ACT III

Sansa held the note in her hand.  The seal unbroken, unread. She knew who it was meant for.  Thinking of Jon, she frowned wondering how he would handle it.  Lifting her hand, she knocked on his door. Jon’s gruff voice echoed through her, while she managed to finally come in.  

 

“Your majesty.”  He bowed. Sansa looked to see his men in the room.  They bowed their heads as well. Lifting her hand she held out the sealed note. 

 

“This arrived from King's landing.  It seems your brother is making use of the dragon seal already.”  Jon took it, opening it quickly. Sansa noticed he was trying to keep his hands from shaking at the words.  

 

“Aegon says I either return to Kings Landing marry Myrcella upon arrival, or I am declared a traitor to the Southern Throne.” 

 

“He is the traitor! He slaughtered innocents for land!  Kneelers...” Spat Tormund.

 

“Aye, Aegon betrayed us first, but he is still King over me.”  Jon threw the letter down. 

 

“How many men can you spare me?”  Jon asked turning to Sansa. Sansa looked slightly taken back.  

 

“This isn’t a northern war.” 

 

“True, your majesty, yet you are harboring  _ Tratious  _ men of the southern kingdom. Aegon might not see it that way.”  Edd spoke up. 

 

“I don’t care what the Southern King thinks.  My men will not fight for something they think has nothing to do with them.”  Sansa glared at Jon. “I will not waste Norther blood over a sibling squabble.”  

 

“This is more than a sibling Squabble, Your Majesty.”  Jon was angry, she could tell just with how his eyes bore into her.  “He murdered people you helped save. Generations of families, gone.”  

 

“You think I don’t know that?”  Sansa glared. She turned her eyes to the wintesses in the room.  “Leave us.” They all looked around at each other. “Now!” She demanded.  Jon nodded his head, while they quickly left. Jon sat down in his chair, the letter out on the table for her to see.  She took her own seat across from him. 

 

“Sansa-” 

 

“Don’t.  You think I don’t remember them?  That I have no pity for them? Empathy?  What do you take me for?” Sansa slid the letter away from her.  “This is your fight, not mine.” Jon reached across the table, taking her hand in his.  

 

“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t have any other choice.  You know that.” Sansa held his hand back, her eyes meeting hers.  

 

“I will not keep my men in a losing fight.  Do you understand me? If I see any way of us losing, I will retreat.”  Jon kissed the back of her hand. 

 

“A direwolf protects her pack until she is dead.  The way you fight for your people is something I expect nothing less from a stark.”      

 

* * *

 

Sansa slowly untangled her braid.  The cold winter air, made it unruly, her hands fumbling at the knot holding it together.  The ribbon was frayed, with specks of blood on it. She looked at herself in the mirror but all she saw was death.  Dying men, screaming for their mothers, their wives, their sons. She had dismissed her servant wishing to only be alone in her thoughts.  Before she could finish undoing her hair, her tent flap opened widely to Jon. He was angry again.    
  


“Why?” He yelled.  She looked at Tormund behind him, who quickly understood what her glare meant.  The giant of a man, quickly walked out of the tent, leaving just the two of them alone.  

 

“You were going to lose.”  

 

“We had them on the run!”  

 

“You didn’t see the men coming up behind you.  I did. I sounded the horn, so that you and your men would live to fight another day.” 

 

“There were no men!”

 

“Do you label me a liar?”  Sansa turned to him. “My men were dying.  Your men were dying.” 

 

“That’s what war is?  Death until their is one man standing.”  

 

“But you weren’t going to be that man!”  Sansa walked by him to the water basin. She grabbed a towel, wetting it, before walking over.  She grabbed his hand gently, began wiping the blood from his hands. 

 

“Retreating for a general does not look good to his men.” 

 

“I beg to differ.  It means you care about your men more than you do about winning.”

 

“They won’t see that.” 

 

“Than blame me.”  her eyes met his. “Tell them, it was because of a woman's heart, they tend to forgive quicker.”  Sansa turned his hand over, placing his palm up. She gently rubbed in the inside, slowly undoing part of his armor. “You need to wash, you won’t sleep well with blood on your hands.”  she whispered. 

 

“It doesn’t go away, no matter how hard you wash it.”  Jon gripped her wrist. “Retreating to me is something that I am ashamed for.  But coming home to you, is not something I will ever regret.” She lifted her hand to his face, smiling at him.  

 

“Jon, lay with me tonight.” He gave a soft smile, leaning into kiss her.   

 

* * *

 

A few month since their loss had gone by.  Aegon had paused his war while he dealt with dealings in King's Landing.  Sansa knew it wasn’t going to go forever, but she enjoyed the peace and quiet, away from battles.  

 

She sat in her solar, with Arya.  A small mischievous smile formed on her lips.  She handed a letter to Arya. Who took it, reading it with horror.  

 

“You are going to reject right?” 

 

“Of course.  It’s below my station.”  She looked at her sister with a mocking smile.  “I wonder how bad King’s landing is for him to offer this deal.”

 

“He must be desperate.  I mean, marry him?”

 

“Jon’s presence must be wearing on him.”  

 

“Who am I wearing on?”  Jon asked, a slight smile on his face.  Arya handed the note to him. He quickly read it, before tossing it in the fire.  His face contorted with anger. 

 

“Jon!  I have to reply to that.”  Sansa quickly stood up to retrieve it, but he held her back.  

 

“I will reply for you.”  Arya snickered from her seat.  

 

“She’s not going to say yes.  He’s a desperate boy king who thinks he could win her over with a peace treaty.”  

 

“I don’t need a southern crown, I already have one.”  She grabbed his hand, smiling at him. “Besides, I don’t think he will take me in my condition.”  Sansa placed his hand over her stomach. A smile spreading over his lips. 

 

“It’s true?”

 

“For three moons.”  She smiled, while he quickly took her in his arms, spinning her in the air.  Arya smiled from her seat, happy that her sister finally found something wonderful.  


	4. Act IV

Jon’s looked at the doctor quickly stitching him up.  The job was sloppy, he could tell the internet wasn’t to save his life, but prolong it just a little while longer.  Aegon was standing nearby, his battle armor still on. Blood was still smeared in his hair, his white hair, dipped in blood.  

 

“Joffrey is dead.”  Aegon was washing his hands.  The water turned pink. 

 

“Good.”  Aegon glared at Jon, who merely sat staring at his defeat in his mind.  His men slaughtered. The only one left alive was Edd. He was to be made an example of alongside his commander.  

“That’s not good, Jon.  Not good at all, without his support I can’t bring together Westeros without more fighting.  I wanted a diplomatic reason out of this, but with Sansa Stark refusing that, I am forced to use force.”  

 

“She will never bow to you.”  

 

“She might if you do.”  Jon glared at him. He feel his pulse quickening again, but knew he had no chance.  

 

“She won’t.” 

 

“If she doesn’t she will die.”  Aegon motioned for a page to drop a blank raven letter and a quill in front of him at a desk.  “Tell her you pledge your services to King Aegon, the King of the seven kingdoms, abandoning the North and returning home.” 

 

“She won’t believe it.”  

 

“She will if you write it.”  Jon glared at him, his hand shaking.  “If you don’t, she doesn’t bend to my will, I will make sure the first thing I do is to slaughter the child growing inside her right in front of her eyes, before killing the rest of her family.”  He bent down pushing a hand into Jon’s bandages. “What I will do to you will be considered child’s play compared to what I will do in the north...brother” Aegon stood up, smiling a disturbing smile, before leaving the tent.  Jon turned towards the blank piece, the words coming out of him. Knowing he had to protect her, even if it meant never being with her again. 

 

His tears fell as he placed his seal on the letter.  His hand shook, as he felt the first wave of nausea hit him.  He knew he would never see his child born. The last thing he could do was try and save her.     
  


* * *

 

Sansa’s hands shook, his words jumping off the letter.  She couldn’t believe it, no it wasn’t true. He wouldn’t, Jon would rather die than betray her.  That was what he always said. He wasn’t a liar, not like his trueborn father. He was truthful, like her own father.  She quickly wrote down a reply. Her hand writing shaking, her anger falling out. 

 

“Arya!”  She yelled, quickly running out of her room. “Someone bring me a raven!”  She yelled. Bran had to leave for the wall last night. She couldn’t get straight answers until at least another three moons, and by that time, it would be too late.  

 

“Is anyone there!”  She yelled again. Arya quickly appeared with Gendry.  

 

“I’m here, don’t make yourself sick.  The baby won’t like it.” 

 

“He’s not going to like what I’m doing.”  She handed the rolled up letter to Gendry.  “Send this to Jon at the battle grounds immediately.”  Gendry nodded before taking off. 

 

“What’s going on?”  

 

“Jon is giving up his support for the North.”  Arya looked at her stunned. 

 

“That’s not possible.  The North is is home.” Arya argued.  “We are his home.” She handed him the note.  “It was written in forced.” 

 

“Forced or not, I sent a letter to Aegon, announcing the death of Queen Sansa Stark and her child in an untimely demise in an early childbirth.”  Arya looked shocked at her sister. 

 

“Why?”  Arya can’t remember the last time she saw her sister this upset.  

 

“Aegon wants the North, let him come and take it from my dead hands.”    


	5. Act V

Arya couldn’t believe what she was seeing.  The great hero of the winter wars, the man who she looked up to more than anyone in the world was lying on a wagon half dead.  His face was pale green, his wounds smelled worse than anyone could have imagined. 

 

“Arya…”  His voice was weak.  She turned to Edd, his last commander alive.  

 

“How?”

 

“Aegon sent him, he’s on our heels.  He thought we would be like a trojan horse in a way.  Jon’s only request that he die in Winterfell and buried near Sansa.”  

 

“Sansa?”  

 

“Aegon told us she died along with the child.”  Jon’s eyes were glazed, his breathing ragged. Arya's eyes were wide. 

 

“Jon!” Arya bent down over him.  “It’s a lie, Sansa in the godswoods.  She’s alive, healthy. You need to get up!”  Jon’s eyes widened, he struggled to get up, but with the help of Edd and Gendry, they quickly made it to the godswoods.  Sansa was humming to herself, brushing the fur of Ghost, Jon’s direwolf. The direwolf never left her side since the news of the child.  

 

“Sansa.”  Jon said loudly.  His voice shaking.  Sansa turned to see Jon being carried in.  Her eyes wide, tears immediately coming. 

 

“Jon?”  He shook off his companions, stumbling towards her.  He fell in her arms, both of them coming to the ground.  Sansa held Jon as he smiled up at her. 

 

“I knew it couldn’t be true.”  His hand coming up to face, his smile the only thing that made him look alive.  His eyes tralining down to her stomach, his other hand resting gently against the bump.  She was almost due, her eyes locking once more with his. “I know everyone wants it to be a boy, but I don’t.”  He whispered. “I don’t want another me. Another me would only bring you more heartache.” He coughed, he knew he wasn’t long and from her tears, she knew as well.  “I always wanted a girl. One with you bright red hair and my eyes. Oh the things she could achieve. The happiness she would bring.” 

 

“Jon, any child you give me would make me happy.”  Jon smiled up at her, his own tears coming. 

 

“I love you Sansa Stark.  Ever since you stole a kiss from me here in when you were 8.”  She gave a soft laughing, leaning down to kiss him. 

 

“It was my birthday present.”  Jon smiled, laughing softly. Ghost whined next to her, while Jon’s hand fell from her face.  He gripped his other hand tightly, his eyes wide, a smile still on his face. 

 

“Jon?”  She asked softly.  “Jon? Jon you can’t leave, I just got you back….Jon!” She yelled.  Suddenly pain shot through her system. The baby, the baby was coming.        

* * *

  
  


Aegon entered into Winterfell.  No Northern men stopped him, no one even looked at him.  There was a somber feel to Winterfell, one he didn’t exactly expect.  His eyes scanning the crowd, looking anyone who looked like they were in charge of something.  He spotted Jon’s second in Command, the one he let go with Jon before he died. 

 

“Where is the Queen?”  He asked, Edd. Without saying a word, he led him to the great hall.  Flowers were everywhere. His eyes scanning the room, finally coming to lay on the two in the center of the room.  

 

“They are to be moved to the Winterfell crypts tomorrow.”  Arya said from behind him. A baby was sleeping in her arms.  “As per northern tradition.” Aegon’s eyes fell on the baby girl in her arms.  A Direwolf growled from beside her. Ghost’s red eyes boring into him. 

 

“Is that-” 

 

“You’re Niece?”  She snorted walking over to the Queen of the North.  “You gave up that right the moment you sent Jon back dying.  The baby is from the North, and she will remain in the North.  She is to be the next Queen.” 

 

“The North no longer has a queen.”  Arya glared at Aegon. 

 

“As Long as Stark name lives on, there will always be a kingdom in the North.”  She looked down at her sister. 

 

“I will allow the North to mourn-” 

 

“You allow nothing.”  Arya accused. “Sansa and Jon wanted to Peace, yet you gave them war.  For their sake, we will join under your kingdom, but let me be very clear.   The moment I sense any harm to come to the people they cared about, will the end of you.”  She glared at him, even with a baby in her arms, Aegon never doubted she would slaughter him where he stood. 

 

“For the King & Queen of the North.”  Aegon agreed.

 

“The North remembers.  King.” She sneered, taking the sleeping child with her.  Aegon turned to look at his brother and his love. 

 

“The North will remember you brother.”  He lowered his head. “As will I.” 


End file.
